The Tweek Letters
by Beyond-BB-Birthday
Summary: Dear Craig: Usually, I'm a pretty quiet person. But it's time I told you what I've been thinking for the last fifteen years... Creek-ish, rated for language.
1. Sincerely, Tweek

Dear Craig,

Usually, I'm a pretty quiet person. But it's time I told you what I've been thinking for the last fifteen years. Despite everything you've put me through, despite everything you've done to me, you deserve to know. You deserve the misery that I hope will follow you after reading this.

I don't know if you remember how we met, but it was in second grade. Cartman and Clyde had just beaten you up for flipping them off, and I helped you up. I don't think I'll ever forget your smile that day when we first became friends, even all these years later - that was when I first felt a connection.

From then, though, we never really got the hang of people. They were too different from us. They weren't important. I didn't get then why we were so different from them. We had a much more…intimate relationship than any of the other guys. But we didn't know what love was back then.

You kept to yourself, and blended right in, just like me. We never made any enemies, or even any real friends; it had just been you and me for all of elementary school - so, in middle school, neither of us understood why anyone gave a damn about us when we started dating.

But give a damn they did.

I'd never thought you'd ever give into peer pressure, that you'd ever care what other people thought of you. That was why I fell in love with you. You were smart, sweet, nice, and confident - not like me. But I was sure you loved me back. You were the only one who could stop my constant shaking with a kiss.

That year, I was happy. For the first time in my life I didn't dream about the gnomes. I didn't shake, and I wasn't afraid. It was perfect - but I was oblivious to your side of the story. I didn't know about the guys hating you. And I sure didn't know they hated you because of me - and I'm sorry for it, now. But even if I had known, I wouldn't have known what to do about it.

As they say, 'ignorance is bliss'.

But I was stupid. I should've realized what was going to happen when you finally told me; about everyone making fun of us, everyone hating you and beating you up. At the time, I didn't understand why you'd tell me that - you'd always gone out of your way to make sure I _wasn't_ under too much pressure. Your face went red, and a few tears leaked from your eyes, and you told me we had to talk. And that was when you broke my heart - for the first time. No matter what bull you fed me, I knew it was 'cause you only cared about what people thought, and what they said.

I didn't want to believe it, 'cause after seven years of knowing you, I'd thought you were stronger.

Life went on. We went to high school - which only made things harder. Now, on top of all my problems, I had a new school, teachers, grades and a thousand more people to worry about. For a kid like me, starting high school was terror. I hated it, and I certainly had a seizure or two due to the stress. I was fucking terrified, and it was hard. If you were still with me, though, I bet it would have been much easier. I would have had a friend to comfort me.

But then, you joined them. You fucking joined the very people that forced you to break up with me. It made no sense. It made me forget how to breathe the first time I saw you laughing and hanging out with those assholes. You can only imagine my intense confusion when you joined them in making my life living fucking hell, too. I didn't think you even knew how to be that horrible. I'd thought you were my friend at the very least. I didn't think that breaking up also meant breaking apart our friendship indefinitely. I just didn't understand.

You were my best friend – and then you hated me. You made fun of me, beat me up, pitted others against me and drove me to the very edge of my sanity. You made me afraid to go to school each morning. Everyday I would beg and plead my parents not to make me go – but they wouldn't listen. I was terrified. And I still fucking loved you. I didn't think I could've, but I did. That was one of the few periods in my life where I actually cried myself to sleep. You turned against me.

I wasn't over you, not by a long shot. I couldn't help but stare at you everyday, and from the way you stared back when Token and Clyde and them weren't looking, I was pretty sure you weren't over me, either. At least, I hoped. I got through the day of their torture and bullying by trying to convince myself that you were only trying to fit in, after going out with me. I was bullied, hated and flamed, but it's all just a pointless blur today. But the misery you caused me stands out.

I had no one. I didn't know what on Earth to do.

So, I tried to get us to be friends. I tried to get you back into my life, because I knew if I did, you'd stop hating me. The depression was unbearable without you on my side. I couldn't stand life without you, even if you were stuck up about it. I tried to get you to except who you were - I tried to help you. But you didn't want to be helped - you said you already had 'friends', but you couldn't see what they were doing to you. I don't think you even saw what they did to me.

Then, you changed. You didn't terrorize me anymore. I didn't know what your angle was – only that you sure suckered me into your act.

I should've seen through you when you finally started to be my friend again. A whole year later. After a whole year of despair, you came back. I remember that day perfectly - it was at my parents' coffee shop, in the bathroom. You broke down, crying, apologizing as though you'd just killed me, and I comforted you. I should have known you were just stoned and trying to get in my pants.

But it was partly my fault for letting you.

It was almost as bad as not having you around, then - it wasn't really you. Token, Clyde and Kenny had made you into a junkie slut who was too drunk all the time to care about anyone. I didn't know you anymore, but I was just thankful you'd stopped hating me. But a good time with you had turned from hanging out and laughing to laying around throwing up. I didn't say anything though. I wish you'd been yourself so you could realize how hard it was for me to love you so completely, and have to sit there and watch you snort god knows what without stopping you.

You probably hate me for that now. But I just couldn't stop you - because I wouldn't be able to stand you hating on me again, if I'd tried. I was afraid of losing my best friend, even though you weren't ever really there.

At least my pain was gone. From then until junior year, it was numb, instead. Not exactly painful, but certainly not happy. Which was still better - I thought. I didn't think about the gnomes anymore. I was too busy thinking about what I was doing to you. I'd never really been one to cry much before, but the way you looked at me, eyes red with black beneath them from lack of sleep, face pale and expressionless, made me cry. If not from anything else, it was from the guilt of having helped to do that to you.

But it got better. I was so glad that you outgrew all that stuff in twelfth grade. I wasn't sure how it'd happened, but suddenly, you were normal. _We _were normal. My nightmares finally went away. I felt alive again. For once in four years, I was happy. I loved being around you after that. You started to care about things again - school, your friends, your life, and, I thought, you'd cared about me. It was just like those days back in middle school where you just let loose and had fun. It was like you'd never left, never destroyed me.

Then, for the first time in my life, you told me you _loved_ me.

Just like all the horrific and amazing moments in my life, that day stood out, too. It was pretty random - we were studying at your house, I think. I was helping you cram for a math exam, and when I tried explaining calculus to you for the fifth time, you simply kissed me. My mind seemed to stop. It seemed to last for hours, almost like our first kiss had, until you pulled away and just looked at me, and stammered the three words that drove me to write this letter today.

A lot of firsts came up that day. First blowjob, first fuck, but overall, it was the first time I'd felt loved. Truly and completely loved by you. The words you repeated every change you got that night rang through my head for the longest time. I thought nothing sinister of it when we had sex that night. I didn't even stop to consider the possibility that you'd lied to me for it.

You know the saying, 'love is blind'? I'd never known what it'd meant until then. I didn't care what I was doing, as long as you loved me. I didn't care that we slept together (perhaps more than we should've as high school students), as long as you loved me. I didn't care that I was lying to my parents, risking STDs or losing everyone else around me, as long as you loved me.

So naturally, I tried not to care that you were cheating on me, as long as you loved me.

And you were good at it. I didn't find out about Clyde, Stan, Kenny and all the others for a good six months. You were a good liar, but them? Not so much. I didn't say anything about it for a good two months more. Just like everything else in the past, I'd hoped it would go away. The bullying did. The torturing did. So did the nightmares, the drugs and the pain. But after we graduated, I found that the real world wasn't so forgiving.

I went numb again.

Of course, the day I couldn't deny it anymore is the most vivid memory in my mind. I went to your apartment after work at the coffee shop, to find you asleep next to Bebe. I stood there for a good half hour, unable to process it. My mind shut down, and the pain returned. I tried to force myself to except it, but it just made it worse, so I tried to ignore it. I tried forgetting what I saw. I tried therapy. Do you remember that day you found me passed out in the car? I wasn't drunk, like I'd told you. I was overdosed on anxiety drugs. You never knew, but I'd even tried to kill myself, just to get away. When it didn't work, I didn't know what else to do.

So I tried doing the only thing left that I could think of: I tried to run.

Four years at an out-of-state university would have made me forget everything. It wasn't like I didn't have the marks for it, or even the money. But in the back of my mind, I still couldn't bring myself to leave you. I still couldn't bring myself to accept what you'd done to me. You broke me again.

So I told you. When I saw your face, saw your dark eyes widen in realization, I knew I could never leave you like you'd done so many damn times to me. So you did it again, you broke down at my feet and muttered apologies. I knew you were sorry. You showed me real emotion. You poured your soul out to me. But at the same time, I knew you'd do it again, it was just something about you. I just wish I'd known what, if anything, I could've done to make you faithful to me.

But I stayed. I moved in, and we lived together for months, trying to live relatively normal. I continued trying desperately to ignore the crack on your dresser, the semen on the floor that was neither yours or mine and the scents of my former classmates lingering on you everyday.

It became a part of us. And I hated it.

You made me feel worthless. I never learned what to do about these kinds of things, so I figured I deserved to be cheated on. "It must have been something I did," I'd tell myself. I thought it impossible that you'd mean to do something like this to me without having a good reason.

No matter how many times you told me you loved me from then, I knew it was all a lie. If you really loved me, it would've be me you woke up next to. _Every_ time.

It all seemed so…wrong. I couldn't stand it. You used to talk me to sleep. We'd just be laying there, so tired I could've slept for years, and you'd still find the energy to talk. After that, though, I'd drag my ass home and collapse on the couch, and you'd be nowhere in sight. I felt so alone. But I also knew there was nothing I could do.

I started to understand why you'd taken up drugs after you left me the first time. They make you forget your misery for a few hours. They make you feel a bit better about yourself. But I wasn't going to be a total hypocrite: I didn't want to be like you'd been. I still remember your sad face every time you were passed out on my bedroom floor. So, I started smoking. They didn't get me high, or anything, just, eased the pain a bit. I broke my parents' hearts, and right after telling them I was gay, and that I wasn't going to college.

I was pretty sure they hated me.

Soon, you drifted away from me. We weren't the same people we'd been at school. I had a job, and money. You had forty different whores and some coke. But one day, you seemed different. You looked depressed, but when you were around me, you smiled – a genuine smile that I hadn't seen in weeks. At the time, I didn't understand why that night of all nights you seemed to actually care about me, like you weren't just trying to get me in bed. I liked it.

And that night, you didn't fuck me. You didn't do, screw, nail, sex or sleep with me. We made love. But the next morning when I found your car gone and a sticky note on the door, I realized you just wanted to leave without me noticing. I hated it – I hated you.

When you left, you changed me. You made me pathetic. I couldn't stand sleeping on your bed – it still had your scent lingering on it. So I slept on the couch. I was afraid again, just like when I was a kid. I'd just shake and convulse, eyes twitching constantly. I even had a cigarette burn on my hand from dropping it clumsily while I was thinking of you.

Pretty sad, isn't it?

Before you left, I drank maybe a bottle of something or other every few days. I smoked a pack and a half a day. Now, just to get my mind off of you, I had to have that tripled. I'm not stupid – I know you're not supposed to drink alone and all that shit - but who was I to do it with? I had no one. I only ever had you. I used to be strong, but you broke me down.

It's been, what, four months, since then? I haven't talked to anyone but my parents in four months. I haven't gone to work in four months. I haven't lived in four months.

No matter what you did to me, I still can't live without you. You were horrible to me, but I still love you. _Fuck_, I love you. It's pathetic. I'll never get over you, Craig. I need you, no matter how shitty you treated me.

I just hope someday you'll come back. Then I can tell you in person how much I hate you. And then I can tell you how much I love you. How much I god damn _need_ you. But I wouldn't hold my breath on you. I know I'll never trust you again.

I was just a tool to you. You never really cared about me; you just broke my heart and fucked me. I never meant anything to you, and you broke my heart again and again. After everything I'd done for you, it was all just meaningless to you. All those nights in high school we spent making out I could've spent studying, and I could've made something out of myself. But I didn't. 'Cause I did all I could to make you happy.

I don't want to think about you. I don't want to face myself with the possibility that maybe all this was my fault. Maybe I should have stopped you from doing drugs. Maybe I should have run off to university. Maybe I should have left you. But I didn't. And now I hate myself.

I hope you're okay. I hope you can live with yourself after reading this letter and understanding, hopefully, what you've put me through. I've never hated anyone like I hate you.

But I've also never loved anyone like I love you.

Sincerely,

Tweek.

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A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and lemme know it you think I should make it a series or not... :)


	2. Sincerely, Craig

Dear Tweek,

I'm fucking pissed off.

I read your letter. You know, the one with all the 'oh, I'm so sad, Craig's a bitch' shit in it? Well, I can't help but write you back.

For your information, I do remember the day we met, second grade, I know. I don't remember all the little details, but I certainly remember you. You stood there, shy and confused, giving me that sweet, kind (and slightly insane) look. I remember wondering who in hell you were, since I hadn't met you before. Then, I heard your voice, and, despite the many cuts and bruises I'd acquired from fighting Cartman, I beamed. For you, it was my smile. For me, it was your voice. I'll never forget it.

I didn't see why people were such assholes either, Tweek. I didn't get why it matter to other people if we liked guys or girls, if we had a lot of friends or not or if we were 'cool'. But I learned fast that when someone's not 'normal' enough for them, they will care. If we'd been sexy, popular hetros, we could have been what they called normal. But we didn't want to be just another couple of faces in the crowd, and for a while, that was good enough.

When we went out, I told you people wouldn't accept us. I told you they'd call us names. You said you didn't mind, so I skeptically agreed. But it fucking blew my mind when people would flip you off and you'd just walk by, my hand in yours. Proud, almost.

I wish I could've been like you.

I'll admit it. I was weak. But you didn't see what they did to me. I used to be friends with these people, and they thought I was perfect, like them. To find out that I hadn't the slightest interest in all the girls they were trying desperately to get me with, it made them pissed. They figured they had a right to beat me up.

You'll probably love the irony: my friends turned against me, and hated me. The scars I showed you from various ass-whoopings were nothing compared to the ones I'd made myself. I never told you, though. I knew you'd hate yourself for it – but now that you do anyways, I thought you should know.

Breaking up with you was the hardest thing I'd ever done, Tweek. Harder than twelfth grade exams, harder than coming out to my family, and harder even than reading your depressing letter. My intentions were to try and make you understand why it had to be done when I told you about everything. I didn't want to put you under stress at all – but I also didn't want you to think I was a soulless demon. Not to say it's your fault or anything, but I'd thought you'd grown out of being a spazz.

I, by no means, wanted to leave you. I know it hurt you – it was painful for me, too. I tried not to care about other people, but it was ruining my life. I couldn't sleep, knowing the morning would bring more hell. I should have realized that leaving you would only make it worse.

You were right: I should have been stronger. And I'm sorry.

This is the part where you skip right to high school. You make it seem like there was nothing after that – but you didn't even say a thing about that summer.

You didn't forget, did you? Those warm days at camp when we were just friends, having fun? Those were some of the best weeks of my life. We had no one around to control us, no one to judge us, and we were just ourselves. (Except for that dick, Christophe, he pissed me off.) But other than him, we had such a great time together.

I remember that all mostly because that was the last time for a long while after we'd laugh and smile together like that.

Okay. High school. Don't go preaching to the choir about how hard it was for you. It was shit for me, too. It surprised me just as much as you when my old friends came back. I didn't like the way they treated you – in fact, I hated them for it. But by that point, it was far too late. There was no way you'd take me back, even as a friend. The guys started getting suspicious as to why I never joined them in a good ole round of 'pour coffee on the epileptic's pants'.

And that is where it started.

I tried not to be too harsh. I even tried to stop them from going too far. They called you names, made fun of you, beat you up, I know, I know. But when the carefully formulated plans to mug, rape and make you completely, catatonically insane rolled around, I knew they were going too far. If I hadn't joined the enemy, the enemy would've brutally taken your dignity - and I couldn't let that happen.

You thought I was horrible to you – but you should have seen what I was forced to do to some other kids. In all fairness, I could have toned it down a little – but I was afraid of losing the only people I now had. You knew how to be alone – you blended nicely into a crowd. (When you weren't shaking like a puppy on heroin, that is.) But you can't just go from being a part of Clyde's group to being a loner. I'd have gotten thrown off the roof of Hell's Pass for that one.

No matter what you believe, no matter what I said or did, I never did, and never will hate you. You went to very interesting sorts of trouble to describe in full, complete detail just to which level of pure, iron-fisted fury you felt towards me. Don't think I hated you. I was an idiot, a dick, a stupid ass. But I didn't hate you.

But I sure hated myself for what I'd done to you.

When you tried to get us to be friends, I was…well, confused. Here I was, me and my gang shoving ice down your shirt, and you call me up and ask if we can be friends. As if it were the easiest thing you'd ever said. I honestly didn't get what was happening. I figured you were just trying to get me back for everything I'd done. I had no idea you really meant it.

Goddammit, when will I ever learn? You never lied to me. You were always perfectly honest, truthful, and the works, and I thought you were trying to trick me. Wow.

So I told you no. It was the second hardest thing I'd ever done – I tried to protect you from myself.

So finally, _finally_, they moved on. The guys finally got bored of terrorizing you, and I couldn't have been more relieved. Until I realized they'd dropped bullying to take up drugs. To be honest, I was scared to shit. I wasn't an idiot, I knew all about all the cancer and brain damage and AIDS and crap you get from drugs, but I saw no other way. I used my every will to try convincing them Butters was asking to be ass-kicked instead, but they didn't listen. I knew it was either the acid or the roof of Hell's Pass again.

I tried my hardest not to get addicted. I told myself I wouldn't, but I did. I didn't want to, honest. But by that time, I was out of control.

I remember the day I gave up, too. I admitted defeat. I trudged over to your coffee place, and dragged you into the bathroom. I got down on my hands and knees and begged you to be my friend. You probably can't remember, but I gave you the whole speech: everything I'd done, how I needed you and the whole nine yards. I didn't expect you to, but you told me you understood. You stood me up and you hugged me like you never had before. I was so happy to feel your touch again. To feel your coffee-breath on my neck, and your tears on my back.

It was then that I realized I loved you.

Now, I won't go around denying I wasn't a drugee, but I wasn't a slut, Tweek. At least, not then. I hadn't slept with a soul, then, despite what Kenny would say. I didn't care a shit about that at the time. All that mattered to me was you, and getting over my addictions.

Like I said before, I never hated you, and I don't now. I understand where you're coming from when you say you didn't want to help me in fear of losing me. That was how I felt before. There was nothing you could do – and I'm sorry I made you feel like it was your fault. But it was only my own.

When you wrote about crying yourself to sleep that year, it wasn't exactly news. I could see it in you. Your red, puffy eyes and messy blonde hair told me you'd lost sleep crying over me. Over what I did to myself. So, just so you know, I didn't 'outgrow' my addictions. I went through painful, miserable, horrible withdrawal so you wouldn't have to cry for me.

I did it for you.

I'll admit, I did some pretty shitty stuff to you, Tweek, but not once did I stop caring about you. You make it sound like I'm some heartless prick – but everything I did, I did to protect you. Why do you think I swapped your timetables out all those times, or stole all your clothes during gym? It certainly wasn't because I didn't care, crazy as it sounds.

It was because it was either that or handing your fate to Cartman, Kenny, Token and Clyde. They would've had you wishing for death if I knew them at all.

You were happy. I could see it – fuck, anyone with half an eyeball could. But while you had fun and let loose, I was even more stressed. Did you being happy really have anything to do with me? In short, I was afraid of losing you – you could have been much happier without me, I was sure.

So, just in case I was proven right and you left me, I had to tell you how I really felt…

Just like you, I never forgot that day, either. I can sometimes be a little daft, but I wasn't so stupid that I needed calculus explained five times – you knew that. I was trying to find just the right moment to say it, but your soft, pleasant voice kept distracting me. When I couldn't stand the leprechauns doing damn back flips in my intestines, I lost all common sense - I kissed you, and those three words came out like word vomit.

This was the part of your letter when I started to get really fucking pissed off.

How could you possibly believe, even for one second, that I'd lied to you? For what, ten years? For ten years, I'd protected you and cried for you, and you had the nerve to believe I wasn't insanely, madly, undeniably, completely in love with you?

Scratch that. I _am_ insanely, madly, undeniably, completely in love with you.

You act like it's my fault we had sex. I asked you if you were sure repeatedly, and you couldn't say 'yes' fast enough. You seemed to think I knew what I was doing – like I was some sort of expert. I guess the guys built me up to seem like I'd done every kid in the school – but I was a virgin, and I was far from confident.

And it was all down hill from there.

First, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, fucking, sorry.

I don't think I have any words to explain it, either. It started with Kenny – and it was actually at our graduation dance. You probably don't remember, 'cause I think you were pretty drunk within the first five minutes. I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear to god, Tweek. We were all a little hazy, right?

I don't even remember when he flung me into the bathroom and blew me. You can only imagine my terror when I woke up next to him in the backseat of my car. That drove me insane – I couldn't even remember where I was.

Then it was Wendy. That surprised me more than anything, as I don't think I'd ever had a conversation with her in my whole life, unless she was arguing with me after I'd flipped her off. I didn't want that one to happen either. She said Kenny had told her I was a good time. It probably sounds horrible to you, but I liked the sound of it.

Word gets around. Not always to the right people, though, does it? I hoped you'd never have to find out, that I could stop before you caught on. It wasn't like I was trying to hurt you or stab you in the back, god no. I was trying to protect you. I didn't want you to have to deal with this on top of everything else.

I didn't want to put too much pressure on you. I love you, and I never meant for any of this to happen.

I certainly didn't want you to find out the way you did. I'm sorry you had to see stupid whore Bebe lye beside me where, I know, you should have always been.

But this isn't only my fault, Tweek. You should have told me as soon as you knew. I probably would have been able to stop four months ago. By the time you told me and my heart felt like it was imploding and I broke down to you, I knew I wouldn't be able to just stop. You knew just as well as me that this wasn't just going to go away like it would have in high school. And, you hated it just as much as me.

You hated being replaced by all the whores of South Park. I hated seeing your face when you thought I wasn't looking – contorted in depression and pain. It fucking killed me.

"No matter how many times you told me you loved me from then, I knew it was all a lie." Jesus Christ, Tweek, what is it with you and thinking everyone around you is constantly lying to you? I felt terrible about what I was doing to you. Those 'I love you's' meant the most – they were me trying to tell you that it wasn't your fault, that you meant the world to me, no matter what. I'd never lied to you with those words.

You, I'd always thought, were amazing. You were perfect, wonderful, sweet and adorable. So when I read that bit about you taking up smoking, I practically shit a brick. After you describing how hard it was to watch me throw my life away into the crack, it's perfectly fine for you to surrender to smoking? Yeah. That's not _at all_ hypocritical. I know I wasn't responsible or good enough to avoid drugs, but I know _you're_ better than that.

Now, I'm not writing this letter to make you feel bad. I'm just saying that your logic is certainly flawed if you think your parents could hate you.

Tweek, I know I was never their favorite, but I could tell they loved you like I don't know what, and they accepted you. They were proud. Remember in eighth grade when Kyle's mom found him making out with Stan, just that _one_ time? She fucking beat the shit out of him. Seeing as how you're still alive, I'm going to say it probably went better for you. Your parents just want you to be happy. So do I.

That brings us to the last point.

I remember the night I left you perfectly. When I woke up next to you, I saw your beautiful hair, your sweet skin. But then you opened your eyes and gave me that look, the one where you try to smile, but end up looking sad. It crushed me. I decided I had to get away from you – I was hurting you, killing you. I thought that maybe if I could get away for good, you could find someone who deserved you. You could be happy, if I left.

That was the third hardest thing I'd ever done. Making love to you for what was probably the last time, packing up and leaving. I had to pull over on the road to Denver because I couldn't see through the hundreds of thousands of tears I cried for you that night.

So many times that night, I almost went back. You know why I didn't? I told myself that you were better off without me.

I had no intention of breaking you, Tweek. I didn't want to make you how you told me. I'd hoped that by leaving you would make it easier, better, especially after all the pain I know I caused you. I hoped you could've forgotten about me.

It's been, what, four months, since then? I haven't talked to anyone but my parents in four months. I haven't gone to work in four months. I haven't lived in four months. Just like you.

I guess no matter what we did to each other, we still need each other. We still love each other. I know I can't live without you, and I want to come back - if you'll let me come back. I need you, Tweek. I fucking love you, and I miss you. Let me come back to you.

Some things never change – I'll never stop loving you like I do.

Sincerely,

Craig.

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A/N: Alright, so a few people have asked me to keep the series going, or write what happens next - and I would, but honestly, I have no clue myself! I intended it to be just the 2 letters and I don't know how I would finish it off. Either I can leave it open to your imaginations, or if you really want a proper ending, maybe gimme some ideas how you guys want it finished? Maybe a seperate narrative about the plot? Another set of letters? It's all up to y'all, so let me know.


	3. Epilogue

I'd had this dream before, so I knew I was dreaming – but I desperately hoped I was wrong, just this once.

I knew it was a dream because Craig was there, and he was sitting on a bench at Stark's Pond. I stood in front of him, our fingers intertwined. I knew it was a dream also because I was smiling, and I hadn't smiled for months in reality. It was summer, too, because the pond wasn't frozen over.

It was also a dream because I didn't have the burning feeling in my chest that followed me in the real world. It felt good to feel normal for once. But looking at Craig's smiling face and knowing I'll have to wake up without him wasn't a comforting thought. I tried to focus on the happy atmosphere of the dream, despite knowing what was going to happen next…

Craig's mouth was moving, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. It took me a minute to realize he was singing quietly. I barely recognized it as some sappy love song I knew in reality. I guess I'd forgotten what a great singer he was – or maybe it was just the dream. Either way, I was smiling.

My heart sank, though, when snow started to fall, and Craig stood up. He moved closer to me, and I leaned into him like the hundreds of times we'd kissed in reality. I tilted my head up, being at a slight height disadvantage, and looked him in the eyes. My breath stopped short as I took in the unusual coldness of his usually welcoming green irises.

My heart pounded and my mind raced as Craig put one arm out instead, his fingers spread out across my chest. I gave him a puzzled look as he pushed me back sharply. I fell into the pond, not finding time to hold my breath with the surprise. I looked up through the water at Craig, but he just stared at me.

I looked away, unable to gaze into those cold, emotionless eyes of his.

I felt the warmth of tears on my face through the freezing cold water as a thick layer of ice began to form on the surface of the water. I screamed through the crushing pressure as my air ran out and Craig didn't bother trying to help.

As I gave one last scream for help, I watched in agony as Craig walked away, someone else's hand in his. I couldn't tell who it was, but suddenly, I didn't seem to be dying fast enough, and I breathed in water purposely as my vision gave out. I couldn't bear watching him love someone else…

As my alarm went off, I jerked awake, screams from my nightmare still ringing in my bedroom. Nothing new. I groaned in annoyance, rolling over on the bed I despised so much to shut off the alarm clock. When the ringing stopped, I sighed, sitting up. I glanced at the picture on my wall, (it was of Craig and I in high school) and was once again reminded that he wasn't there. _It was just a dream_, I told myself.

I breathed heavily and got up slowly, holding my hands to my head. _Bloody hangovers_, I thought.

As I made my way stupidly to the bathroom, wading through the empty cigarette packages, empty bottles of god-knows-what and dirty needles. I slipped on an empty glass bottle, and lost my balance.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, grasping the wall to steady myself. My hand slipped, and I crashed into the picture of Craig and I. I groaned as it crashed to the ground, the frame shattering. I regained my balance and ignored the mess on the floor.

Muttering under my breath, I continued into the bathroom, bracing my hands against the sink and staring at my depressing reflection in the mirror.

Same rats-nested blonde hair; same dull, blue eyes, with plenty of purple bags beneath them; same chapped, pale lips; same expressionless face; same yellow-brown teeth. I sighed. It had always been the same since he left, except with the new track marks on my arms…

"Jesus," I murmured, distracting myself from my thoughts. "I look like crap." But I was used to it. I hadn't had a good night's sleep since he'd left - I'd forced myself to sleep on the couch, as the bed was too painful for me. It reminded me of him – it had his scent. Not to mention the scents of various other people. But I didn't like to remember him like that.

Last night had been the first night since he left I'd slept on the bed, (I'd gotten back from work late and been too exhausted to notice) and it had made me wake up to the sound of my own screaming. I made a mental note to never sleep on the bed again.

My heart leapt into my throat as the doorbell rang. My body started to shake a bit, and I tried to calm down quickly. I hurriedly forced myself into some jeans and a tee shirt and started towards the door.

I knew I was just getting my hopes up in thinking it would be him. I did every time the doorbell rang - but as I ran past the letter on my dresser, reading the last few lines like I did when I was feeling lonely, I reminded myself just how much he seemed to miss me...

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door slowly.

My breathing stopped abruptly, and I actually took a few steps back. My eyes widened in complete shock. I couldn't say anything as Craig stared into my eyes. He had a few tears streaming down his cheeks, but did the best to smile at me.

"Hey," he said casually. Suddenly, I was pissed. He figured that after destroying my life, five months later, he could just come back and act like nothing changed? Then I saw the look of pure guilt and suffering, and I sighed. My expression changed from shocked to thoroughly depressed.

I missed him, loved him like fuck – but I didn't want him to leave me again. I knew there was no way I could take that. On one hand, I didn't want to go back to him cheating me and leaving me every other month. But, on the other hand, I didn't know if I could keep him away now that he was back.

Craig sighed. "I'm sorry," he said clearly, looking me straight in the eyes. I'd never seen that look in him before. I'd never seen him as sorry as he really was. "I'll just…go." He muttered when I said nothing.

He turned around and started down my driveway, and then down the street. I wanted to run after him, hurl myself into him, hold him like I never had before – so I didn't understand why my feet wouldn't move. I guess my brain was making the unconscious decision not to risk causing me so much pain again.

Finally, my muscles seemed to override my brain's logic. I said nothing as I followed Craig's figure disappear into the morning horizon. I broke into a run, though my bare feet against the ice and snow begged me to stop. But I was done with being rational. I realized love didn't have to be rationalized.

"Cr-Craig!" I said quietly. Though he must have been over twenty feet away, he heard, and turned around.

Before he could say a word, I bravely hooked my arms around his neck and locked lips with him. My feet were burning in the cold, (I was sure they would be frostbitten, but I didn't care) my hair was a mess and my breath smelled and tasted like smoke – but Craig didn't seem to care. He locked his arms around my waist and leaned into me.

It seemed to last forever, thoughts rushing though my head and my heart pounding in my throat, until finally we pulled away.

I was never one for all that cheesy love shit about being 'lost in his eyes' or thinking that 'love is blind', but there was no other way to say what I felt other than that I would die without him. I didn't like it, but I knew it was beyond my control. I needed him.

Craig slipped his hand into mine and smiled. I smiled weakly back. My legs were shaking from anxiety, and my feet were numb. The wind around me whipped my skin, but I took no notice of any of it. I simply held Craig's gaze, searching my mind frantically to find the words I wanted.

"Craig," I said quietly. "I hate you…I love you…I don't know what the fuck to say, alright?"

If I wasn't holding his hand and feeling his pulse, I would've sworn his heart had imploded and he broke into a stupid grin. I couldn't help but smile a little wider as Craig did. He kissed me again, lovingly, and I suddenly knew what he was going to do. I felt my body begin to tremble as my fears were confirmed.

I felt my face get hot, despite the freezing air, as Craig lowered himself to the ground on one knee. He took my hand in his (rather sweaty) one. He looked up at me, his eyes full of nervousness and anxiety. I tried my best to smile to reassure him.

"Tweek, I love you," he said, voice cracking. "Will you marry me?"

My heart pounded, and for a moment, I was genuinely afraid of having a heart attack. After a few more seconds panicking, I took a deep breath.

"Of course, Craig." I whispered. "Of course," He leapt to his feet and instantaneously glued his face to mine.

In the middle of winter, I stood in a tee shirt and jeans with no shoes and no coat, in the middle of the street. I was freezing to death but I didn't care. I clung to my fiancée and he held me tighter. I'd never felt so at home with him.

For the first time since a very long time ago, I knew everything was going to be fine. Maybe it was the cold air getting to me, but I somehow sensed that he wouldn't leave me again, that he wouldn't cheat on me again and that we could drop our addictions.

So, after twenty years of being afraid, I finally felt like it would all be okay.

Thanks to Craig.

* * *

Meh sorry for the bad ending there but I figured I'd gone on and on about their feelings enough. Soo thanks for reading and thanks to StrangersHaveTheBestCandy for a bit of a kick in the butt to get me going. =) R&R


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